My husband has a new iphone and, sadly yet predictably, it has become the centre of his (admittedly puerile) universe and therefore, to a certain extent, ours.

If we want to know the weather in Grantham or Newark (and even if we don’t) – iphone. If he wants to kick a football without putting in any effort (in fact he can’t really kick a football!) – iphone. If my daughter wants to talk to a cat (called Tom) – iphone. If you want to know where you are; North, South, Venus or Mars – iphone.

You can draw pictures, take photos, play games, access flashing lights (so you can pretend you’re a cop!) and get Tom The Cat to tell you that you are beautiful (well, only if you tell him he is beautiful first!)

There seems to be an app for everything so I guess the bloke is not going to disown it any time soon. Men are a little like Magpies – they want to collect things; the shinier the better! The apps are polished and colourful and they appeal to anyone with a low boredom threshold. Apparently, you can even make phone calls on the iphone! My brother actually admitted to getting the shakes when he left his iphone at work. He was a little self-satisfied, boastful even, that he managed the whole weekend despite going cold turkey.

I have found myself faking contempt and disdain for this new toy. I can barely admit that indeed I would quite like one – if only to hear Tom say ‘I love you’!